The Grass is Always Greener
by Lady Perditus
Summary: College! AU. Team Free Will as roommates. A jock, a rebel and a (former) junkie. An unlikely brotherhood is formed and the college life turns out to be more challenging than any of the boys expected. Between crazy professors, college shenanigans and dark corruption, it's going to be one hell of a ride. (Based off of an AU Meme on tumblr.)
1. Chapter 1: The Story Begins

**AN: Based off an AU! Meme on tumblr. The original post can be found…here supernaturallychallenged. tumblr post/ 46967053827/ frostedsammy-though-hell-should-bar-the-way (Just remove the spaces dearies.) I don't really want to write any romance in here due to not wanting to turn anyone away because of not liking a shipping. There will be mentions of a past Sam/Ruby, though.**

**Dean is an engineer because I see him as a mechanic in a parallel universe, and I figured engineering seems to be a more university-oriented major.**

**Cas is a jock due to the tumblr meme!**

**Sam is the former junkie due to the whole season 4 and 5 fiasco. **

**Title is a working progress. In my opinion, it's like naming a kid before it's born. I'll let you know about any considerations/if there indeed will be a title change. **

**Kansas University is pretty much fiction, while there is a Kansas state college I know nothing about it so everything I say about it has no background knowledge. (ignore the babbling author)**

**Anyways I'll shut up now. Freaking short chapter, I should really work on making them longer.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural. Shocking, I know.**

**Summary: **College! AU. Team Free Will as roommates. A jock, a rebel and a (former) junkie. An unlikely brotherhood is formed and the college life turns out to be more challenging than any of the boys expected. Between crazy professors, college shenanigans and dark corruption, it's going to be one hell of a ride. (Based an AU Meme on tumblr.)

* * *

Dean Winchester had never been so excited to get in his classic '67 Chevy Impala before today. Because _today_ was _the _day he'd be able to escape from his father's iron rule and lead his own life, and that included being able to make his own choices.

_Your freedom is a privilege Dean, not a right._

He forced the echoing voice of his father to the dark recessives of his mind and shook his head. That didn't matter right now, because he was on his way to Kansas University to study a long pursued dream of engineering. John Winchester had been on the brinks of cold fury after learning his eldest son's plans to run off and be a student instead of joining the Navy like he had when he was of age. His attempts to crush Dean's hopes were futile; if anything they only encouraged the rebellion to continue.

_I've been Dad's "soldier" long enough._

Whistling lightly the twenty four year old turned the old radio dial and the sounds of classic rock blasted through the once silent air of the car. Dean rolled his window down and gripped the steering wheel tightly.

A good day indeed.

* * *

Samuel Campbell swallowed the heavy lump that was currently lodged in his throat. He stared at his mother, silently pleading with his hazel eyes for her to understand. She covered her mouth with well-manicured hands as tears sprang to her eyes.

"This'll be good for you Sam." She whispered, pulling his large 6'4" frame into a tight hug. "A new beginning."

Sam subconsciously wiped tears from his own face, nodding. The man stood there, still unable to find the right words to say. He knew he screwed up and he was just thankful his mother didn't view him as the monster he felt like he was.

"I'll call." He promised, his voice hoarse despite the fact these were the first words he's vocalized all day. The morning was tense and silent as Sam packed his bags for university, neither parties wanting the confrontation that still needed to happen. Avoiding the problem seemed to be the only thing the two Campbells were capable of at the moment…especially after the court case.

Sam pushed those thoughts out of his head and shook a thick fringe of hair out of his eyes, not taking his eyes off of his mother.

"You're sure you don't want me to drive you?" Mrs. Campbell inquired, the silent plea not going unheard. _Please Sammy, be happy about this._

"I'll be good." He lied, forcing a grin that didn't quite meet his eyes on his face. "The bus is fine. Speaking of which," he glanced down at his watch, desperate for the distraction. "It's leaving really soon. I should get going."

Mary could only watch as her son left and she couldn't help but feel as though she was losing him. She could only pray to whatever angels resided in heaven that they would watch after her only child.

_This will be good for him. A new day._

* * *

Castiel Novak was considered by most people to be a loyal son. And, well, he was. It didn't matter that his father wasn't around much and was always buried nose deep in his work. He behaved as a child and never quite grew out of that obedience as that child grew up into a young adult.

Of course, the fact that his family was religious and cast their gaze down upon wrongdoings such as adultery and drinking didn't promote a necessarily open minded environment for a child to be raised in. The Novaks attended church every Sunday and refused to accept anything except the best grades and mannerisms. Disobedience led to punishment.

That punishment was severe but never physical, instead favoring the building of guilt and, in the case of Castiel's older brother Lucifer, disownment. But Castiel didn't dwell on this fact, instead changing his mindset to excitement for university life. He had never been on his own before, at least, not with the kind of independence school would grant him with.

The man finished shoving his last suitcase in the trunk of his "gently-used" car and was grateful for the fact that his classes would be within walking distance of his dormitories. Speaking of such housing, he felt a small amount of fear planted in his chest. The only thing he's heard of his roommates were names: not even a face to go with. Neither had means to be contacted with, leading Castiel to wonder what sort of lives this "Dean Winchester" and "Samuel Campbell" possessed.

Instead Castiel took a deep breath and prayed this decision wouldn't lead to a disaster.

But…knowing his luck, it would be.

* * *

We can never know our fates or how our stories will be finished...but the only thing you can be sure of is that this is only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2: Meet the Roommates

**AN: Holy crap the response to the last chapter was overwhelming. UBER thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, or favorited the story! I really hope you enjoy the next installment ;D**

**Oh, do let me know if anyone goes too terribly OOC. I'm trying to keep everyone as in-character as they would be in an alternate universe.**

**Disclaimer: Last I checked Supernatural did not belong to me. *cry***

* * *

The sun was just sinking below the horizon and splattering a brilliant display of warm reds, oranges and pinks across the cerulean canvas as Dean's Impala rolled onto the university's campus. Despite the early hour the man had to stifle back a yawn as he shouldered his door open and stepped foot in the crisp outdoor air.

The Student Services building stood in front of Dean, and as he made his way to the double glass door he couldn't help but feel slightly nervous. The building was huge and plain, so in all actuality it was kind of ridiculous to feel that way. He contributed the feeling to the long drive he took and the fact that he knew absolutely no one on campus. When growing up Dean was always used to a familiar face or two, even if it was only his father and Caleb.

Instead of dwelling on the foreign emotion he trekked to the front desk where a middle aged woman with fiery red hair (that was most likely not her natural hair color) sat and typed on an overly large and clunky looking keyboard.

"Uh, excuse me?"

She glared up at him through the thick, black rims of her glasses. "Can I help you?"

"Dean Winchester. I'm here for my dormitory information." He shot her what he hoped looked like a charming smile. Based on the woman's softened expression it worked just as planned and she gave him a small smile.

"Of course, sweetie," The woman admonished, turning her back to Dean and fingering through a manila folder. She pulled out a map and laid it out on top of the marble countertop, a red marker held securely in her right hand. "Here's your map. Most freshmen dormitories are located here," She circled said resident's area with a quick flick of her wrist before turning back to the computer and searching under her master list. "Dean Winchester, Denton Hall. Your resident's assistant is Mr. Robert Singer; go see him for your room key."

"Thanks." He took the map and as he exited he tried to ignore the fact that a dreamy sigh was emanated from the older woman. With a shudder he quickened his pace.

* * *

The first thing Dean noticed about Robert Singer was his gruff way of talking/greeting students. Okay, well that was actually the _second _thing. The first thing was really the man's dingy baseball cap he wore. _Who the hell wears a baseball cap inside?_

Currently Mr. Singer was talking to a tall, young looking man. He had floppy brown hair that constantly fell in front of his eyes and a strange expression on his face like it was torn between resentful and excited. He had broad shoulders and wore flannel with a simple tan jacket over it. The man seemed to be trying to draw the least amount of attention as possible but with a towering height of what looked to be six four or six five that was difficult.

Dean approached them cautiously, not wanting to interrupt. As he neared the pair, he couldn't help but overhear the tidbits of their conversation.

"…roommates? How many?"

"The rooms are currently housin' three students at a time."

"Great. Who are they again?"

"Didn't ya check online before you came? Idjit."

"Oh." The tall man responded, his cheeks becoming slightly tinted pink from embarrassment at being caught asking such a stupid question. Dean concluded he was probably rather intelligent seeing as he was not used to be called out on his mistakes.

"Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester."

Dean's head snapped up at the mention of his name. Ah, so this giant…moose was one of his roommates. (Mentally, he scolded himself for the lame adjective to describe the large man. But after another moment of thought he realized how well it fit. Well, it was either moose or giant Labrador.)

"That'd be me." He grinned, cockily inserting himself into the discussion. His hand made its way out in front of him for his new found roommate to shake.

"Sam Campbell." The other man replied, almost suspiciously. After a moment of hesitation he shook Dean's hand and Dean descried the almost unnoticeable tremor in Sam's hand. _Huh._

"Well, now that you two are buddies, here's yer keys. Try not to lose 'em." Robert frowned. "If ya need anything my room's on the ground level." He gave them another hard stare. "Don't need anything."

The two men took that as their cue to leave. Sam pressed the cold metal of his key into his palm so hard the edge pattern left a faint red mark on his skin. He eyes shifted to the shorter, but still tall man beside him, unsure if he should try to learn anything about it. Fortunately for him, he didn't have to initiate a conversation seeing as Dean chose to do so for him.

"So, what are you majoring under?" His green eyes shone with a carefully contained curiosity. Sam was reminded of an overly excited teenager that just received his driver's license. It was clear he wanted the whole university experience, and that included trying to make friends with his roommates.

"Law." Sam gave him a small smile, not wanting to appear as a dick. Or antisocial, for that matter. Despite his outward appearance, the brown haired man appreciated Dean's efforts to be friendly.

"Respectable." Dean whistled, looking down at the number printed in the faded black ink on the key. "Do you know where we're going?"

"Uh, yeah. Third floor. What are you studying?" Might as well return the effort, Sam thought. It couldn't hurt anything, especially since he was practically an outcast back in his home town.

"Engineering, actually. I know it's not much, but I've always enjoyed working with machinery, especially cars."

The pair climbed up the stairs, making other small talk. Dean carefully avoided the topic of his family, especially John Winchester and the absence of his mother. Likewise, Sam always changed the subject when it looked as though it would careen towards his hometown or what his life was like before moving on campus.

It wasn't long before they reached the hallway of their room, and Dean was currently scouring the numbers for 348 while Sam checked the other side of the hall. "Found it," Dean called out and barely noticed how quickly the other man seemed to appear behind him as Dean unlocked the door to their dorm room.

The lights were on—which Dean vaguely noted was strange. He and Sam entered the room, duffel bags perched on their shoulders and it was only then did the men realize they weren't alone.

A young man was crouched over a dark green suitcase that was currently open, with certain articles of clothing haphazardly strung over the sides of the bag and strewn across the floor surrounding it. Immediately the man's head swiveled to the open door and he gave a tight lipped smile to the pair.

"I believe it is safe to assume you are Samuel Campbell and Dean Winchester?" His voice was low-pitched and had a gravelly undertone to it. "My name is Castiel Novak."

"Just Sam." The moose dipped his head in acknowledgment towards the introduction. Castiel's ocean blue eyes shifted to scrutinize Dean and he couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable. The other man's unwavering gaze was enough to make even the toughest of men want to squirm.

"Nice to meet you, Cas." Dean nearly winced at how quickly he formed a nickname for Castiel. He didn't mean for it to happen, but the name 'Castiel' just seemed like a mouthful and the shortened word just popped out of his mouth. He could only keep his fingers crossed that Cas wasn't going to pass judgment and think he was one of those guys that got attached too quickly and was desperate for a friend.

Instead, Castiel tilted his head curiously. He had never been given a nickname before, his parents always preferring to use him and his siblings' given (and sometimes almost ridiculous sounding) names when addressing them. "You as well, Dean. I apologize for the mess I made."

Sam shrugged and inquisitively looked around the dormitory. The living room was comfortably sized; a small couch and TV sat nestled within the corner of the room. A kitchenette was located in the back of the apartment sized space. There was no door leading to it but rather an opening in the wall (probably safer that way. Wouldn't want to slam the door open in the face of the chef who could very well be carrying a boiling pot of water).

There were only two bedrooms and judging from the other duffel bag placed in front of the room beside the only bathroom, it was safe to say Dean and Sam would be forced to share a room due to arriving last. Sam stifled a groan and mentally prepared for the struggles that would come with sharing a room.

Yet he bit his lip to restrain himself from making a comment and silently ventured to the only available room left, tuning out the conversation between his other roommates behind him. _("What do you mean you've never seen Indiana Jones?!")_

Sam tossed his lone pack on his bed then prompted to collapse on it, his long legs hanging off of the mattress. _Look at us. A pair of freaks. _Clenching his fist against the voice ringing in his head and squeezing his eyes shut he tried to ignore it. _I'll fix you, I promise._

* * *

Cas was a nice guy, Dean decided. A bit lacking on the humor spectrum of things, but he meant well and wasn't a total dick despite the stereotype that many jocks held. Oh, yes, the man with the striking blue eyes and tousled brown hair was actually attending the university under an athletic scholarship, much to the surprise of Dean.

Of course, the Kansas University Fencers jacket would have given it away had Dean been more attentive. The faint outline of wings on the back stood out to the man for some strange reason, and he drew back as though he were shocked. When Cas questioned the reaction, Dean smirked and played it off due to the fact that the Kansas Angels wasn't exactly a team name that would strike fear and intimidation into the hearts of their opponents. If the other man picked up on the obvious lie, he chose to ignore it and instead corrected Dean in a flat voice.

"It's the Kansas Garrison. We do not refer to ourselves as angels of the Lord…"

_Angels watch over you._ Dean mulled over the sudden memory of his now-deceased mother. He felt a sudden longing for home, but not the longing for his father. It was a strange feeling that the Winchester was unaccustomed to, seeing as he could easily recall the hero-worship he had towards John in his earlier years.

(Hell, if he wasn't so determined to convince himself otherwise, he'd acknowledge how he still viewed his father as a hero, just not with the same reverence or in quite the same light as he used to.)

Reaching into his pocket to check for his wallet, his stomach plummeted as he felt only empty space. Dean wracked his memory for who could have taken it or when he lost it (it could be anywhere on campus) before he suddenly remembered where he last saw it: the passenger seat of the Impala.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. "I left my wallet in my car." He offered as an explanation to the perplexed looking Castiel. "Be right back."

Trudging down the three flights of stairs he briskly shuffled outside, blinking at the dynamic change in lighting. Dean hadn't glanced at a clock since he left the Student Services building and it had to be at least nine o'clock based off of the lack of light and the emerging of the delicate stars in the sky.

He unlocked the passenger side door and reached for the darkened leather of his wallet, tightening his hold into as close as a fist as he could get with the object in his hand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glove compartment popped open again. Grumbling under his breath, Dean vowed to fix it over the weekend and bent over to close it again. Of course, it popped open yet again so he plunged his hand inside to see if anything might have been blocking the latch.

His fingers closed around the familiar cord of a certain necklace and yanked it out. Dean eyed the amulet, feeling a burning sadness rise up in his throat. No longer wanting to see the painful reminder of his half-brother he shoved it back in the glove compartment and turned around, not even bothering to attempt to close it a second time.

This was a new beginning, and if that meant throwing it out to avoid distracting memories he would do it, but for now he had other things to worry about. Dean instead forced himself to focus on the fact that classes started the very next day.

The night crickets began to sing behind him.

* * *

** Next Chapter: Classes start and Castiel encounters a certain professor that goes by the name Crowley…Afterwards, to celebrate surviving their first day of university Dean is determined to get Sam and Cas out of the house and into the bar to celebrate!**

**I love reviews, and thanks for reading! **


	3. Chapter 3: Boys Night Out

**AN: Gosh, sorry this took so long. This week decided to throw school work, concerts and illnesses at me all at once. And then the beginning refused to be written. (Muse cackles in the background). Crowley is hard to write. ****  
Also, thanks for all the follows/favorites and the REVIEWS! You guys are great. I was going to post this on the 15****th**** but my internet thought it would be hilarious to go out for the day.**

**Disclaimer: Team Free Will doesn't belong to me! Or any other Supernatural characters.**

**Oh, so I really need a cover. Any ideas? :3**

* * *

_"It was the heat of the moment!"_ Asia blared through the radio station of Dean's alarm clock. He woke with a start, half expecting to see his father back in the room and demanding him to get his ass home. To his relief, however, the room was empty and the bed next to him was already neatly made, and Dean was willing to bet he was the last one up. His roommates seemed the type to get an early start on the day.

With a groan he tore himself away from the warm covers and stood up, stretching out his arms and rolling back his shoulders. He quickly threw on a pair of jeans and old black t-shirt before hastily tossing the comforter back on the bed. (In Dean's head it was close enough to making the bed to count.)

Exiting the bedroom he could hear the water running in the bathroom, and he mentally grumbled. He doubted by the time he'd be able to take a shower any hot water would be left…not that he would complain vocally, he has been forced into situations where cold showers were simply the only option. The memory brought up unpleasant emotions and Dean could feel the frown etching itself on his face. Luckily, a voice distracted him as he made his way to the living room and he was able to forget the fact that he was frowning about a _shower._

"Hey." He recognized the voice as Sam's, the youngest man in the dormitory. It was low, and much smoother than Castiel's, he noted.

"Morning." Dean replied, clearing his throat from the drowsiness of sleep that still had a hold on him. It was only then he noticed the dark bags under the other man's eyes and the coffee resting on the low table beside his laptop. He considered asking if Sam slept at all last night but instead bit his tongue. Not only wasn't it his business, but Winchester rule number two clearly stated no chick-flick touchy-feely moments. (Rule number one was to never forget the pie.)

A moment passed and now the space was filled with an awkward silence and Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say next. Fortunately for him, the bathroom door swung open a second later and Cas stepped out into the room with damp hair. Two heads swiveled towards his entrance and the fencer nodded towards both of them as a form of greeting.

"Good morning. Sam, I am finished with the shower now."

"Thanks." Sam replied easily, stretching his long legs and closing the top of his laptop.

"Wait," Dean interjected, glancing between Sam and Castiel. Since when did they reach this…agreement? The green eyed man was determined to put an end to it to ensure he wouldn't be ganged up on and forced to do dishes repeatedly. "Who says you get it first?"

The moose smirked, an almost mischievous glint sparkling in his hazel eyes. "Since you decided to be the last one to wake up. First come first serve."

Dean quietly growled at the use of logic and glared at Sam as he made his way to their shared room to get clothes. "Bitch," he huffed, turning toward the kitchenette before remembering he hadn't gone shopping for food and therefore would have to find a diner to eat breakfast.

"Jerk!" A voice called back defensively and Dean rolled his eyes in an amused fashion, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He walked back to his bed and swiped the Impala keys off the nightstand, and began to hum Metallica under his breath.

"So…uh, I'm getting breakfast then heading to class. See you later, I guess." Dean awkwardly informed Castiel before taking off out the door. Roommate's courtesy, he figured, and he still had hope for bringing the other man out of his shell.

"I suppose you will." Cas remarked offhandedly, having his attention drawn by the textbook he had pulled out of his duffle. The door closed with a resounding slam behind him.

* * *

"It is also suggested you do your bloody homework when I assign it. This isn't high school; I won't collect it and put a shiny sticker on it, but if you choose to be lazy then you'll fall behind and fail—of course, that's not my problem, but it makes me look bad."

Castiel continued to furiously scribble down notes in the journal he had with him as the English accented voice of the base history professor continued his introductory lector. He was an interesting man, not the kind you'd expect to teach at a university, but that's not to say he would strike you as unintelligent. The suit he wore was finely tailored and dark and the air around him held a sort of sarcastic professionalism. He introduced himself as Crowley, and Castiel was vaguely reminded of the snake Crawly taught in his bible class when he had been six. The man certainly looked cunning and gave the fencer the same bad feeling he had in the pit of stomach when he first heard the story.

"And that's all. Go home now…or whatever you students do." The smug voice broke through Castiel's musings and if he weren't more composed he probably would have jumped a little. Instead, his hand slip and he dropped his pen and it slid to the floor. Suppressing a groan he got off of his stool and blindly felt the floor for the writing utensil. From below the counter that served as desks he could hear the other students in the room shuffling out the door and stuffing their belongings in said designated bookbags and satchels. It wasn't until he found his pen and began to pack up his notebooks and other supplies did he notice he was the last one in the room, leaving him alone with only Professor Crowley.

"Novak, isn't it?"

Castiel swallowed, bracing himself for God-knows what was about to transpire. "Yes, sir?" (He felt a marginal amount of pride for the fact his voice didn't waver.)

"Heard big things about you, you know."

"May I ask how?" He brought his deep blue eyes up to meet with Crowley's dark, almost-black ones.

"Your older brother went here for a semester." Crowley's pale lips drew up in a taunting smirk.

"Michael?" Cas scrunched up his nose, not recalling such a fact. He racked his brain information on his rather large family. (He was fairly certain Michael went to a more esteemed university, though he couldn't remember if it was Harvard or Stanford. Balthazar never went to school and the Novak family hadn't heard from Gabriel since he vanished off the face of the earth nearly eight years ago.)

"Hm, no, that wasn't it. Lucifer?" The professor tilted his head slightly, looking curious between squinted eyes. The arrogant aura had returned despite the fact his hands were casually tucked in the pockets of his expensive jacket. Cas had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep from frowning too profoundly. (Of course, he also tried to remember if his parents ever mentioned Lucifer going to Kansas University, but it wasn't a big shock that they conveniently "forgot" to announce the fact.)

"He spoke of me?" This time the fencer was the one to narrow his eyes, the tone in his voice clearly indicating disbelief. Even if Lucifer was to speak of his younger brother, he was unsure of whether to be flattered or frightened. The contact Castiel had with his rebellious sibling was minimal and at best formal.

"A little," Crowley shrugged. "About Michael, however, he had quite a few…choice words to describe him, shall we say."

"I…" Castiel hesitated. "Am unsurprised."

"Oh, a falling out. How exciting." The professor's tone suggested he thought the exact opposite and Cas couldn't help but wonder if Crowley had taken a liking to Lucifer at all. Clearly they had spoken on more than one occasion but it sounded as though it was anything but pleasant.

When the young student made a move to leave Crowley stepped in his path, effectively cutting him off from his escape route. "Not done quite yet, Castiel."

Something about the way he said his name sent a fearful shiver down his spine. It was almost predatory and for the second time that day he wished he were anywhere but here.

"I'll be frank with you. I didn't like Lucifer—too much of a child, but you…are different. I have use for people like you." Crowley paused before rephrasing the last part of his sentence. "Not like that. But I believe we can be of help to one another."

Immediately Castiel was suspicious, but he dared not interrupt the man. Again he swallowed nervously, and wiped his palms on his jeans to attempt to remove the quickly gathering moisture.

"Do you know what I do? No?" The professor sauntered over to his desk, taking a seat and leaning back. "Besides lecturing history I'm also an archaeologist. I find rare items and…sell them to a select group of people in return for specific currency." He shot a hard stare at the athlete, clearly demanding he read in between the lines, so to speak.

Cas opened his mouth to protest his understand before the realization hit him like a freight train. _Oh._ His jaw clenched. _Smuggling. But why him…?Why not someone more…qualified?_

"There it is!" Crowley gave a grin that revealed too many teeth. "You'd get a cut, of course. I pay my workers well."

Castiel could only shake his head, suddenly losing his ability to speak.

"Don't make you decision now, I insist. Think about it." The professor then picked up a leather briefcase from under his desk. "Oh, and be a dear and don't tell anyone about this. I don't like traitors."

Without even glancing at Crowley's face, Cas knew he was more than capable of carrying out any threat—unspoken or otherwise. The professor left the fencer behind in stunned silent for minutes after.

* * *

By the time Castiel returned to the dormitory it was late evening, and he could hardly remember retrieving the key from his pocket and unlocking the door. He felt like he was in a haze and his body was just going through the motions for the sake of some semblance of normalcy.

Both Sam and Dean were already back from their classes by the time he stepped foot into the significantly cooler room. (He recalled the fact that Sam had two classes late morning and Dean only had one earlier that evening.)

Speaking of the sandy haired man, he currently had his feet propped up on top of the coffee table and was flipping through a magazine which could only be assumed to have scantily dressed women on the pages. When he saw the Cas enter the room he grinned as an idea dawned on him.

"You know what we should do?" He exclaimed, causing Sam to arch an eyebrow and turn towards him.

"What?" The younger man asked cautiously.

"Celebrate surviving our first day of classes. There's a great roadhouse practically down the road. I know the girl whose mom runs the place."

"You suggest we…go out and drink?" Castiel piqued, and if Dean didn't know better he'd say there was disbelief laced in the last part of the inquiry. He responded with a shrug.

"Why not? I'll drive. Wait…you guys do drink, right?"

Sam made a face that Dean could only classify as a bitchface. "I've always been a bit too busy to worry about heading out to the nearest bar, thanks."

"C'mon!" He taunted, the cocky grin back on his face in full force as he waggled his eyebrows playfully. "It'll be fun. You two need to loosen up anyways, I can already tell you're the type to work all day."

"My family did not approve of such adulteries. I was brought into a religious upbringing with very little choice in the matter." Castiel's choice of words took a second to decipher yet he had a thoughtful look on his face.

"You've never had alcohol?" There was a look of incredulity on Dean's face and in a second he was sure his jaw would drop and he would be stuck gaping at the fencer. What kind of self-respecting man—a jock nonetheless—hasn't had an alcoholic beverage every once in a while?

Castiel's lips drew up in a small smirk. "I never said that."

* * *

Despite the roadhouse being a small establishment, the evening Dean, Cas, and Sam pulled up to it in the '67 Chevy Impala was a crowded one. The gaggles of students were loud and rambunctious, eager to get started with the shots and partying.

"Hey Ellen!" Dean greeted as he swaggered through the front doors of the bar, his aura radiating confidence and dare Sam say…"swagger".An attractive, middle-aged brunette woman peeked her head over the counter and when she saw the leather wearing man she smiled warmly, handing the bottle of alcohol she retrieved to one of the workers.

"Dean! Was wondering when I'd see you." She made her way over to Dean and looked almost like she'd pull him in for a hug but thought better of it and instead settled for a hand clutching his shoulder and shaking it slightly. Dean nodded and shot her a wan but charming smile. Ellen then turned on the ball of her heel and motioned over her shoulder with a hand for the trio to follow her. She led them to a wooden table in one of the more secluded parts of the roadhouse. "How's your dad?" The woman had to holler to be heard over the noisy environment.

"Oh, uh, fine. He's fine."

Both Cas and Sam seemed to pick up on his defensive stance and only shot each other a look that obviously spelled out their curiosity and confusion. As they settled down Sam decided to take the opportunity to learn about Dean's past, and his father seemed as good as any a place to start.

"So your dad knew Ellen?" He inquired, leaning forward on his elbow and consequently closer to Dean. Sam's hazel eyes twinkled with a strange, interrogating interest and Cas suddenly had no doubts this boy was studying to be a lawyer.

"Yeah, we worked for her for a short time a few years back." Dean shiftily glanced over his shoulder, his sudden confidence replaced with discomfort.

"What kind of a job?" The moose pressed on, singular elbow now turning into both arms and hands linked together in sure attention.

"Just helped her out with some stuff." The soon-to-be engineer shot him a small glare that clearly spoke multitudes:

1) I don't want to talk about this.

2) Drop it.

Sam seemed to understand the hint and backed off, hands raised in surrender. "Yeah, okay."

"What about your family, hot-shot lawyer?" The tone was teasing but it obvious Dean was using the change of subject as a deflection method. (Cas duly noted he should've been a psychologist, he would have been great.)

"Just my mom and me," Sam shrugged, signaling for a beer. "Always has been. Dad skipped out of town shortly before I was born."

Cas made a noise of sympathy and he took it as a cue to enter the conversation. " I understand. My father is often so entranced with his work I very rarely interacted with him. To my extent of knowledge, my older brothers are the only ones he has communicated with directly."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What, so none of dads are winning the 'father of the year' awards? That's uncanny."

"We should make a club," Sam chuckled. "Team shitty fathers."

"Nah," Dean scrunched his face up. "It has to sound classier than that."

Cas shrugged and downed the shot of whiskey that was brought to him. "Perhaps we will think of something whilst drunk."

And while Cas wasn't exactly the most well-versed in social interactions, he felt rather certain that the laughter that erupted was, indeed, a positive thing.

* * *

Three shots later and Castiel was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Dean had called him a 'Legolas', and he was unsure of the reference, though he was fairly sure it was an allusion to his tolerance.

Meanwhile, Sam was utterly drunk and more amusing yet he was the babbling kind of drunkard. He was currently going on about the evil midget clowns that exploded glitter…or at least, those were the only somewhat comprehendible segments of his one-sided conversation.

Dean was easily flirting with a blonde and brunette a few paces from the table and from the gestures the blonde was making and the smirk on Dean's face, it was safe to assume he would wake as a happy man.

"Hey, you guys can walk back, right?"

Castiel could only numbly nod and he tugged on Sam's arm. "Of course. I suppose we shall…see you in the morning." He pulled the drunk man up and awkwardly tried to step away as Sam leaned on him, but didn't want the man to fall into a heap on the floor.

Dean exited the roadhouse with the woman in tow and Cas followed suit…at a much slower pace.

"You are an interesting man, Sam Campbell." He remarked offhandedly as the pair stepped out into the cool night air.

Unbeknownst to them, a dark figure lurked across the street, staring at the taller man with an unhealthy amount of interest. It was the kind of stare that made mothers redirect their children and force them to promise to stay away from men like him.

"Father?" A younger voice drew the man's stare from Sam and to a beautiful woman with silky dark hair. Her eyes were equally as dark and lovely and the way the street light hit them made her look dangerous.

"What do you notice about that tall man there?" He softly advocated, motioning with his head to the path the pair of men were walking down.

"Um…I don't…-"

The man interrupted. "That's Samuel Campbell. Sound familiar?"

Instantly the young woman's face transformed into an excited smile. "Is it? What shall you have me do?"

The stranger made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, bringing his hand up to his angular chin to think. "Nothing. Yet," He hastily amended. "Keep an eye on him, but do not tip him off. Understand?"

"Of course Father." The woman obeyed, bowing her head in respect. "What will you do in the meantime?"

"Oh, you know," He waved a hand to display his insouciance when in all reality he was anything but. "Planning. We have a lot of work to do, Meg." The two snuck back into the shadows of the street ways and alleys yet the only evidence of their presence was the wild speculations of a drunken student who swore he saw the dark, evil glow of yellow eyes.

* * *

**Dun dun dun! Long chapter is long.**

**Up next: Castiel meets with his fellow fencers for the first time, Dean gets a call he was not prepared for and the stranger 'Meg' seems determined to get something from Sam...and she may require the help of a professional to do so...**


End file.
